Hannibal: The Golden Pen
by DarkShine07
Summary: [Post Hannibal] Life had just gotten back to normal for Clarice when a certain psychiatrist shows up again in her life. Only this time he's there to ask for her help, and before she knows it, Clarice is swept away in a mind boggling adventure[Discontinued
1. Chapter 1

**Hannibal: The Golden Pen**

_**Chapter 1**_

"I'm sorry Clarice…but we're going to have to dismiss you."

Clarice turned around her hands still up in the air, and then all of the agents lowered their guns. There was still one tear drop underneath her eye, it rolled silently down her cheek. All she did was nod at her former boss.

"Where's Paul?"

"Back in the house." She replied quietly.

She was lucky, and so was he, that Hannibal had made it out of the house and into the lake and out of sight before the FBI could spot him. Hiding underneath the steering wheel, that's where he was in that small boat.

"Where'd Dr. Lecter get off to?"

She didn't reply.

"Starling!"

She moved her glistening eyes to his. "I don't work for you anymore. I have the right to remain silent."

Her boss furrowed his brows at her in fury. "Very well then."

With a wave of his arm he turned and walked towards her home and the armed men turned to follow him. She was left alone with nothing but the sound of sirens and glows of helicopters flying above. Slowly she looked back out at the lake, and the boat was gone.

The FBI arranged for Clarice's house to be fixed up, and so a few days later her home was her home again. Of course now she had no job, but she didn't bother with jobs at the time, she mind was in a fog. She went to get the morning mail and sighed when she saw the familiar wax stamp on the back and the calligraphy 'Clarice' on the front. It was from Dr. Lecter, but why so soon? She quickly opened it up and unfolded it. She didn't care about finger prints now, she didn't care that this could be evidence.

_Clarice,_

_I do hope you're happy with yourself, making me cut my own hand off like that, what a shame. I assume you've been cut from those despised FBI friends of yours, does that make you happy? Well, just the other on my plane a little boy took an interest in Paul's brain, hard to believe isn't it? He insisted on trying it, so of course I let him. He might make a fine cannibal someday. But that was not my reason for writing you, no Clarice. I wrote to you to tell you not to come looking for me. The world's big enough for the two of us. If I should ever want your company, I'll be sure to write again. _

_Ta, ta_

"_H"_

_P.S. You looked stunning in that dress I picked out for you._

Without thinking Clarice took her hands and placed them on the letter so that she could rip it apart. But strangely, she couldn't do it. She sighed and held it up to her face before walking down towards her basement and leaving the letter in there. She put a paper weight on top of it to keep it from blowing off the desk she picked for it. She let her fingers trace over it before leaving her basement and returning up to her home.

//-//-//-//-// **One Year Later** //-//-//-//-//

"Starling! Get your butt over here!"

Clarice looked up from her desk and computer screen. She walked to the source of the voice and then found her boss staring up at her.

"Starling you've gotten sloppier and sloppier on every assignment, and I'm not very happy."

Clarice had found a job making web pages, she only knew how because she'd taken courses in school. She didn't like the job very much, but it put bread on the table. But now it looked like she was about to get canned.

"Mr. Hensley, I promise I'll do better next time…"

"That's what you say Everytime Starling, and I've had enough of it. I think it's time you packed your things and skedaddled."

Not even wanting to try to keep her job, Clarice just nodded and returned to her office. Her computer screen showed an unfinished web page that she had been working with, and with a grin, she closed out of it and deleted it entirely from the system. She wouldn't let her replacement have it easy by finding an almost complete webpage when first turning on the computer. She picked up the box she'd had packed for months, or maybe she never finished unpacking it…never the matter. She picked it up and threw in the few possessions she had on her desk. It appeared as if she'd been trying to get fired all along. So quickly left the office and drove her car back home.

It was the same home she'd been in for eleven years, and she loved it, no matter how many dreadful things had happened inside. The fate of her old rival from the FBI named Paul was decided no sooner than the FBI broke in. They found him dead, dead for only seconds. She never let that bother her anymore though. She didn't like Paul, and even if she didn't like seeing his exposed brain and watching him eat it, she felt he deserved it. Sighing she shoved the box of her things underneath her bench beside the staircase. Finally she decided it was one of those times for a quick jog.

She changed into her sweat shirt and pants, found some headphones, and then left her house to jog the paved road that circled around her house and the lake. She couldn't remember the last time she'd actually run with headphones on, or even used the headphones, though she did only use them a year or so ago. She didn't know what she would hear when she flipped them on, and to her surprise it was a familiar voice.

"Do you feel eyes watching your body; I can't see how you couldn't. And do your eyes not seek out what they want?"

Before she could hear herself reply and turned the headphones off. That was hardly what she wanted to listen to while jogging. She'd been working so hard just to get that man out of her strained mind; it was only a matter of time before she was reminded again of him. She quietly continued her jog after that. She made a total of four laps around the entire length of the lake and her home, but of course not the whole lake, for it turned into a river flowing out to the ocean; there was a bridge where people walked over the place where the lake formed into the river. When she was finished she walked back into her home, sweat beading from her forehead. She quickly threw the headphones towards her couch and went up to her room to change out of the sweaty clothing. No sooner had she pulled a shirt over her head did the doorbell ring, signaling the mail. She pulled her hair into a pony tail, how she liked it, and then went back down the stairs, her sweats in hand to put in her washing machine. After doing that she finally went to her door and picked up the mail. A letter from her boss with her layaway pay, a few uninteresting magazines, a bill for electricity and…

She was sure she was just imaging it, but it was right in her hands. Before she could stop herself, her trembling hands dropped all of the letters. Biting her lip after a few seconds of hesitation and picked them back up and walked to her counter, setting all the letters except the one with a skull seal down. She pulled out a drawer where she had a letter opener and proceeded to open up the envelope. Indeed it was just like all the letters she'd ever received from Hannibal Lecter. She slowly pulled out the yellow tinted parchment to find a very, extremely uncharacteristic, short note.

_In five minutes your phone will ring, Clarice. Answer it…and make sure the FBI isn't listening in._

"_H"_

How bizarre…it was like Hannibal had been in a rush. He was never in a rush, always calm and had everything under control. This made Clarice all the more nervous. She wasn't sure how she could make sure the FBI weren't listening to her phone calls. It was true that they told her that her phone would be monitored by them, but that was a year ago and they'd never listened in before. She quickly got to her computer and went to the FBI website where she used to work. It asked for her username and password, so she tried her old one, and to her frustration it didn't accept. How would she deal with this? All the while she was trying to access her old account, and her time ticked by.

Her cell phone rang. It wasn't the house phone, as she had expected, which was good. The FBI had never mentioned that they'd listen in on her cell phone. In fact they didn't even know she had a cell phone. She had gotten rid of her FBI cell phone and bought her own personal one as soon as being dismissed. So…how did Hannibal get a hold of her number? The ringer sounded for the third time, and she quickly grabbed her cell phone to answer.

"I figured you wouldn't be able to access your personal account, so I called your cell phone Clarice."

Clarice wasn't sure what to say.

"I see that you were fired again today, Clarice. The short little thing you called Mr. Hensley was all in your face. If you like I could teach a few things about being rude for you."

Clarice shook her head without answering.

"No? Alright then, you always were the one to see the clear line between right and wrong."

Clarice turned her head and looked out her window. She didn't see anyone, so she walked slowly through her house looking out all of her windows, but not seeing anyone.

"Clarice…you're not trying to locate me are you? Because if you are, I'm afraid you won't find me."

Finally Clarice spoke. "Dr. Hannibal, why did you call me?"

"Ah, curiosity killed the cat Clarice. But if you insist. It would seem I have a bit of a dilemma. Someone is a bit upset with me."

Clarice walked to her back door, the one facing the lake, and she looked through the glass. Her boat was back. "Now why would someone be upset with you?" She asked a bit sarcastically.

She heard a small chuckle on the other end of the phone. "I'm afraid that, if you want anymore details you'll have to find me in person. I'm pretty sure the FBI have your cell phone number…wouldn't want them to hear my privet business, now would we?"

Before Clarice could respond the cell phone went blank, Hannibal had hung up. Clarice quickly let it fall to the floor and walked out her back door, towards the boat that had been returned to her dock. She walked along the pier and made her way to the boat, but found it quite empty. Nevertheless it looked in perfect condition, much better than she'd ever had it before. She looked out in the lake, wondering silently where the Dr. would be. Slowly, with her gaze downward, she turned around. When she looked up she nearly jumped with fright.

"Hallo Clarice."

As always Dr. Hannibal had snuck up on her, for he was standing right in front of her now.

"Dr. Lecter…"

"Clarice, dear, I don't use such formalities with your name, perhaps you should not use them with mine."

Clarice saw how Lecter's appearance had changed over the year. He'd grown thinner, more fit, but his face would always be the same face with daunting ice blue eyes. His hair was slicked back as it always was, and his gaze was steady.

"Giving me the once-over, Clarice? Well then, you should have one too."

Hannibal quickly let his gaze move up and down Clarice's body and then he said, "Spin, slowly." And she did so. "Bravo Clarice, you should've been a model."

Hannibal began walked back towards her house, Clarice slowly trailing behind him. "Now, before I begin an engaging conversation with you, I'd appreciate it if you promised not to keep trying to whack me over the head or stab me with objects. That was quite displeasing during out last visit."

Clarice was silent, feeling slightly guilty. She never wanted to hurt Hannibal, but she had known he was dangerous, and he still was come to think of it, and her instincts had told her that the world would be safer with Hannibal behind bars. She faintly remembered him asking her if she'd deny him his life. She had said no in response. And his reply to that had "No, just my freedom." It was one of their most personal conversations.

"Clarice."

She looked up.

"Say 'I promise', Clarice."

"I promise."

"That's my girl."

They walked into her house, Hannibal shutting the door after Clarice walked in.

"You've rearranged the furniture!" Hannibal stated with a thin, silvery smile.

Clarice only nodded at him.

"I like it." Hannibal then sat down on her couch and made himself at home. "I could get used to it here, Clarice."

"I'm just about ready to leave it." Clarice responded, sitting in her chair. Of course she loved her home, but she was tired of working so closely to the FBI agents whom she'd used to work with. She was tired of living so close to the prison where Hannibal used to stay.

"Well that's convenient." Hannibal said, his gaze refocusing on her.

"Is it?" Clarice asked dully, letting her gaze meet Hannibal's. Whenever they spoke they'd always used direct eye contact. It was a silent agreement in a term, but Clarice was sure that if she didn't, for the most part, speak to Hannibal with her eyes as well as her voice he'd have some comment about it that would make her do it anyway.

"Yes, indeed it is. And it can be arranged as well Clarice."

**A/N: That's the end of the first chapter everyone! Hope you enjoyed. XD**


	2. Chapter 2

**Hannibal: The Golden Pen**

_**Chapter 2**_

Hannibal expected and accepted the uneasy gaze that Clarice shot at him after he had spoken. He had noticed with ease that Clarice hadn't been acting quite herself for a long time, no doubt due to all the stress she'd been taking from her less than satisfying working schedule.

"What are you up to?" She asked steadily.

"Now, we both know that if I told you that this would be no fun at all."

Clarice stared hard at Hannibal, suspicion clouding her blue eyes. "I refuse to help you with anything."

Hannibal put on an amused face. "Alright then, Clarice. You win." He quietly stood up, his hand reaching into his pocket. "I'll be going now." Clarice watched him pull his hand back out of his pocket, subtly seeing that he was grasping something, and then he turned and walked out of the house as quickly as he had come in.

Clarice waiting just a few minutes before quickly getting up from her chair and walking outside, glancing around. Hannibal was no where to be seen, but she still couldn't help but wonder what he had held in his hand. She then decided that taking a quick look around wouldn't hurt anything, and proceeded to do so. In just a few minutes of searching her suspicions lowered when she hadn't found anything. With a sigh she walked back towards her door. Her eyes were locked onto the path she walked, so they caught the glint of shining and quickly looked up. On the path, just a few steps ahead of her, something gold was glinting in the sunlight. She squinted in thought and went to pick it up in her hand. It was a golden pen, elaborately decorated with symbols in a different language that she thought was Japanese or Chinese. Bewildered, she decided that she needed to find out what the symbols spelled out.

Later that day Clarice drove her car into town, the pen in her pocket, and pulled into a parking lot of a small building. She got of her car and walked into the small building, telling the secretary that she needed to speak with the doctor, and she nodded. The building was actually an office of a man who was an orthodontist, but Clarice had once met with him while being an agent and knew for a fact that he was well educated in foreign languages. She hoped he'd be able to tell her what the pen spelled.

She walked down a narrow hallways and went into the door that said: _James Reading, Orthodontist_. It was a small room, a reclining chair for patients nailed to the floor in the center and a sink on the left wall. The walls were outlined with shelves and drawers. Clarice, after looking around curiously, stepped further in just before hearing footsteps behind her.

A kind voice spoke, "Okay, who've got here-Oh! Starling! Clarice, wasn't it?"

She turned and smiled, holding out a hand. "That's right Dr. Reading."

The taller man smiled, shaking her hand. "Not here for a checkup I suppose."

"Not exactly. You see…I have this pen, and it has symbols on it that I thought you might be able to read."

Dr. Reading grinned pleasurably and shut the door. "Alright, let's see it."

Clarice nodded and took the pen out of her pocket and held it out. Dr. Reading took it expertly and pulled glasses out of his shirt pocket, putting them on and gazing at the pen thoughtfully. His fingers rotated it, reading the full message, and after two minutes he smiled.

"I do believe I've got it." He held the pen back out for her to take, and she did.

"So, what did it say?"

"It was in Chinese, but…I'm afraid it's bit undecipherable. I'm not that good in the Chinese language, but I did manage the word opera and capital…"

Clarice held her hand up to her lips in a fist, pondering. She knew Hannibal enjoyed attending operas, but the word capital completely threw her off.

"I hope that helps, oh, and I won't ask what it's for, you being an agent and all."

Clarice smiled, "Thank you Dr. Reading, it helps a lot."

She wasn't going to bother telling him that she hadn't been an agent for a year now; that would only give him a reason to start asking questions. "Well, I better get going." She said, and Dr. Reading nodded.

"Always a pleasure to help out."

Clarice smiled again and then left. The whole drive home she kept wondering what the two words had meant. Opera and capital, she was pretty sure that she knew the significance of opera, but capital? By the time she got home and made it to her chair it was dark out. She flipped on her television, though she hardly watched it. After an hour she got very drowsy and started to doze. She had a short dream. The golden pen was floating in the air in front of her, but every time she tried to grasp it, it seemed to float just beyond reach. She tried time after time just to touch the pen, but she never could. When she finally stopped trying, the pen began to soar towards her, its symbols spinning around its base. Chinese symbols…

She woke with a start to find her television on and an ache in her neck from the position she'd fallen asleep in. But it suddenly made sense. Opera and capital were connected, and they were written in Chinese. The Peking Opera House in Beijing, the capital of China. But why would Hannibal have a pen that related to a Chinese Opera House? This truly baffled her, but it wouldn't be a first from Hannibal. Rubbing her head she let herself fall asleep again for the remainder of the night.

The next morning Clarice couldn't get her mind off of the pen, Hannibal, and the meaning of his short appearance. He had mentioned that he had a problem, something she'd never expect to hear from him, though not surprising. But she mustn't help him with anything. He was a murderer and wanted for arrest, and if she helped him and were caught it would look extremely unbecoming and foul, and she'd most likely end up in jail herself. Yet, she was curious, dangerously curious. She couldn't help but want to at least find out what was going on, and it was that curiosity that led her to call the nearest airport and buy a ticket for a plane to Beijing. She quickly packed a suitcase, not sure of how long she'd be gone, and drove to the airport. She couldn't help but feel she was jumping to conclusions and in the back of her mind she doubted herself. As she drove she couldn't help but notice a black corvette driving behind her. She decided not to pay any attention to it, even when it turned into the airport when she did. She parked and when she got out of her own car she looked around and saw no sign of the corvette, to her relief. Getting her suitcase she walked the long way to the airport.

Inside she found her ticket waiting for her at the main desk, and then went through the long lines of luggage checking and such. She the made her way to her plane's gate and found herself a seat by the window that overlooked the runways behind the building. She sighed and waited, looking around at all the people passing by. A man in all black caught her eye. His eyes had been looking at her until she noticed, and then he quickly averted them. He was an Asian man, shorter than average, and had short, spiky black hair on his head. Clarice glanced the other way trying not to draw attention to herself and when she flicked her eyes back to where the man was she found him gone. She blinked and decided not to dawdle on it.

Ten minutes later her plane had arrived and people were allowed to begin boarding it. Clarice stood, her suitcase in hand and got in the line of people waiting. It was then that she saw the Asian man again; he appeared and got in line as well, though much farther back than she. Clarice couldn't help but feel as though she were being watched, as the line slowly moved forward. Finally she was next in line and then she walked down into the walkways that led to the plane's entrance. She picked a row that was unoccupied by anyone else and chose the window seat out of the three. Her suitcase was small enough to fit up in the cabinet over her row, and she stored it there before sitting down. She then picked up a magazine and started scouring through it. She flipped past a few uninteresting topics and found much of the magazine pointless. But just when she found a small article on the latest gun technology, something that was far more interesting than the rest of the magazine, a familiar voice spoke.

"So you made it, Clarice, how delightful."

She looked up with a jerk and saw Hannibal in the aisle beside her row of seats. She felt slightly relieved that had indeed gotten the pen's hint correct nevertheless.

"I hope you don't mind if I take the seat beside yours? Good." Hannibal slipped into the row and sat down.

"So what's this problem you have?" Clarice asked immediately.

Hannibal gazed at her. "Wasting no time are you?"

"There's hardly time to waste."

"But isn't there?"

Clarice sighed.

"Tell you what," Hannibal began, "we'll do it like we did eleven years ago. You tell me some information and I'll return the favor."

Clarice remembered their information swapping all the years ago back when Hannibal had still been in that top notch security prison.

"Fine. What do you want to know?"

Hannibal smiled. "Tell me, when you were younger, and while you were at the orphanage, what did you do?"

"I did my daily chores and I slept. We never were privileged with free time, and it was absolute misery."

She turned her head to gaze back at Hannibal.

"When did you leave the orphanage, Clarice?"

"When I was eighteen. Although most of the time all we did was chores, the orphanage did provide a bit of education, due to the law. I was allowed to go to a community college and I worked a half time job. The studied forensics and sciences and anything I could on behavior, which led me into working with Mr. Campbell after graduating, and there I began physical training for becoming an FBI agent."

"And while being there you happened to be assigned to speak with Dr. Hannibal Lecter."

Clarice nodded. "Yes, that is how I came to you. Now will you tell me anything about your problem?"

Hannibal readjusted his eyes, as they had gone vacant as he imagined Clarice's life in his mind, almost as if reading a well written book.

"Very well. I've been in China during the past year, and I so happened to meet an old friend who was very unhappy with me because of something in the past."

Clarice focused on him, waiting for more.

"You know, planes tend to procrastinate as long as possible."

"What?"

"Everytime I get on a plane I end up waiting much longer than I bargain for before it actually moves." Hannibal continued to drift off topic.

It was clear to Clarice that what she'd heard was all she was going to get. She sighed as Hannibal just smiled at her.

Finally the plane did begin to move though, it backed up slowly, pausing as soon as it had turned sideways, waiting for another plane to pass by. Then it began rolling through the complex maze of roads that many other planes were using until it found a clear runway and straightened itself out.

"I always find the pressure of taking off into the air exhilarating, don't you Clarice?"

She just nodded and let her hand grip her knee tensely.

Hannibal noticed. "Nervous, Clarice? You wouldn't happen to be afraid of heights?"

"In fact I am, and I'd appreciate it if you'd not pester me about it." Clarice said in a hushed voice as she pulled down the slot that covered her window. The plane lurched forward.

Hannibal grinned. "Very well then."

The plane started off slow, but gradually gained more and more speed as it rolled down the runway. Soon it was going so very fast that Clarice could hardly tell when it rolled over bumps in the road. Before she realized it she felt the sensation of lifting off the ground. In minutes the plane was headed for China, and Clarice couldn't help but wonder what she was getting herself in to.


	3. Chapter 3

**Hannibal: The Golden Pen**

_**Chapter 3**_

It was dark, and glum. A tunnel spiraled downwards, lit by the flames of torches. The walls and floor were made of stone, and the ceiling was not visible in the endless spirals of the stairs, small specks of light illuminating where the stairs were placed. Down the stairs the floor was just visible, cold and hard concrete. There was a short hallway, lined with but two doors, one on each side of the corridor. In one was but a well made bed, a desk and nightstand, and a shelf with a few books. Inside the room opposite of it was a man, outlined by the glow of a few candles lit within the room. The man sat at a desk, scattered with papers and pens. Along with the desk, there were chairs and shelves in the room, as well as a computer on a desk ajar to the one the man was sitting at.

The man was in a well designed suit, creased and cuffed to perfection. His shoes were polished and created a shine amongst the darkness in the room. His hair wasn't as tidy as his clothing; it was a bit wild, strands of it stuck up in the air, while the rest lay flat upon his crown. His brown eyes glinted as they intently watched his hand, gripping a pen and writing on a thin piece of paper. He was in deep concentration when, to his great dislike, he was interrupted by the sound of echoes of shoes hurrying down the stairs. A moment later a man stood in his doorway, dressed in a suit, though not as well-maintained as the other's, and his eyes were anxious.

"Dr. Vex…"

Dr. Vex looked up from his parchment, a grim smile on his face, waiting for an explanation.

"We've lost him."

The smile quickly vanished. "Take me to him, Marion."

Marion Giles nodded and Carter Vex stood from his desk, the paper still clutched in his hand, and they both walked out of the door. Up the hundreds of steps they walked, the torches' lights dancing upon the walls as they went. The walls appeared to have small pictures on them as they got higher and higher, though they were covered in molds and dust from lack of care. The men came to a small platform in the stairs, where a door was framed, and just after the door the stairs continued on in their eternal march to the sky. Marion opened the door and Dr. Vex stepped inside, shutting the door behind him.

The room was poorly lit, but one candle blazed in the left corner. There were a few drawers where clothing was kept, and in the right corner was a brass bed. A body lay outlined in the bed, covered by the blankets and sheets. Dr. Vex slowly made his way to the bed, his hand outstretched before him. When he reached the bed side, he slowly pulled the covers away and revealed a man. His eyes had been shut for him, and his skin was pale. There was no rise in his chest, or sound of taking in breath from his lips or nose. Dr. Vex laid his hand upon the man's own hand, and sighed. That man had been his father, Brandon Vex. It had long since been his time to pass on, but it was unexpected when he did. Dr. Vex took a few minutes to just look at his late father, memories flashing in his mind from his childhood. His father had been the only one in his family to love him. His mother left his father, himself, and his younger brother when he had been but seven years of age. Shortly after she left, the courts gave her custody of his brother. He always felt he had been lucky, because only a few months later his mother and brother turned up dead. Both had been stabbed by the same knife, and the court decided that his mother had killed his brother and then committed suicide. It hadn't surprised him or his father that his mother would do such a thing. She'd never been quite right in the head. But it was that incident that had given him the privilege of being with his father, who loved him immensely.

Dr. Vex came back to himself and without hesitation pulled the blankets back over his father's body. He turned sharply and exited the room, where Marion stood, waiting. Dr. Vex turned his head to Marion.

"Get his body out of here."

Marion nodded and started to go up the stairs.

"And Marion," The other man turned around. "Give this check to the kind salesmen who sold me that revolving pistol."

//-//-//-//-//

Flying high up in the air was a plane headed towards the capital of China. Inside of it, Clarice gazed silently out of the window, which she'd decided to look out of after the plane had leveled out after taking off. Her eyes darted amongst the many clouds that the plane was passing through, all but fascinated. They had past the altitude that birds usually flew at, so there were no other life forms around the plane except perhaps other planes, passing by, though not in sight. Although Clarice was severely afraid of heights, there was a certain altitude she was alright with, and it happened to be where she was at. High up in an airplane was always calming to her, but when landing and taking off, it was a nerve racking experience. For now she was content to sit silently and continue to look out the window, enjoying the clouds.

Sitting beside her was Hannibal, his face gazing at a magazine filled with interesting items to his mind. On some pages there were nice caliber guns, and on others were pieces of music, there was even a low quality piano on one page, though it didn't capture Hannibal's attention, for he already owned a grand piano. There were fancy dining instruments as well. Thin, linen table cloths to put on tables, high class glasses for expensive wines, and a few fraud pass-offs of the rare dining knives he's been searching for.

The plane had been flying for hours upon hours when the speakers finally rang with the sound of the pilot's assistance announcing that they'd be landing soon and to re-buckle all seatbelts.

Hannibal glanced up from his magazine at this and put his magazine away. Beside him Clarice turned her eyes away from the window and pulled the sliding panel back down over it so she wouldn't have to look.

After half and hour of descending in altitude and landing and pulling into the gate boarding station, the plane stopped and passengers were allowed to leave. Hannibal stood up and stepped into the aisle and Clarice followed suit, pausing only to retrieve her suitcase from the cabinet above the row. After doing so she followed Hannibal down the aisle and into the hall that connected the plane to the airport. When they reached the airport Clarice found that nearly everyone in the port was Chinese and everything she saw was written in Chinese and _everything _else was in Chinese as well. She'd completely forgotten that she'd be having a bit of trouble communicating with anyone.

Hannibal turned to her and smiled. "Shall you liking a hotel, or a much finer place, my home?"

Clarice replied, "I think if I were to pick a hotel over your home I'd have a bit of trouble paying for anything."

Hannibal nodded, "Yes, you would indeed."

With that he turned and continued walking, and Clarice hurried after him, giving strange looks at everything she passed. Many Chinese shops outlined the corridors of the airport in Beijing, some had shirts and other clothing, some had souvenirs, and others, the ones Clarice was most interesting in, had a thick scent of food coming from them. Hannibal noticed how she kept gazing at all the food restaurants.

"Hungry?"

She nodded, "Very."

"Well, there's food at my home, you can eat there."

Clarice nodded again in agreement.

They walked on, out of the airport and into the mass of vehicles parked everywhere outside. Hannibal led onward, down rows of cars until he stopped at a Jaguar. Clarice wasn't surprised at his choice in car at all. She got in on the passenger side and Hannibal the driver side, and in moments the supercharged car was zipping away from the airport and onto the strange roads of Beijing. As they continued on the streets became thickly outlined by buildings set close together, and many people walked by on sidewalks. As they drove, Clarice looked at all the people they were passing, and she quickly caught the eyes of the same Chinese man who'd followed her to the airport in the black corvette and the same one who'd she'd seen at the airport back in America. The man was now walking past the Jaguar, and he wore black sunglasses to cover his eyes. Clarice swiftly averted her eyes, avoiding eye contact. To her fortune, Hannibal seemed not to have noticed, and he drove on without question.

Finally the Jaguar slowed down and pulled into an alley where Hannibal parked and turned it off. They both got out of the car and Hannibal beckoned with his hand for Clarice to follow. She did so and found that there was a door to a brick building along the sidewalk where they'd parked. Hannibal opened the door and Clarice went in, he followed and closed the door behind him.

Clarice looked around and the lights were switched on. It was a beautiful home, decorated as if Hannibal were still in Italy, she supposed, for nothing in it was Chinese as was the world outside. There was a kitchen, a room with a TV, another room where a piano and music booklets were kept on shelves, and there was an exquisite dining room that was already set. Clarice supposed that it was always set though. There were stairs that led up to more rooms, and when she looked up Hannibal's voice came from the kitchen.

"Your room, Clarice, is up the stairs and to the right."

She went up the stairs, her suitcase in hand, and turned to the right before stopping. She looked over her shoulder at the other door, on the left. She wondered what was inside it, but she knew better than to prowl, and so she ignored the urge to have a look and went into her own room. There was a well made bed, nightstand, drawers for her clothes and a door to a bathroom on the right wall. She smiled at the cozy looking room and began unpacking her clothes and categorizing them into her drawers. Shirts and bras in the top drawer, underclothes and pants in the bottom, socks on the right, and that left the drawer on the left empty. She wondered for a second and then decided to put her pajamas in it. After all her clothes were sorted, she moved on to the bathroom, where she placed her toothbrush and toothpaste by the sink, along with the deodorant.

After she was completely finished unpacking, she put her suitcase on its back and pushed under the bed. Smiling at her work, she clapped her hands together and decided it was time to go back downstairs and found that the dinner table had fancy food on it now, and she sat down just as Hannibal walked in from the kitchen with a smile. Clarice smiled thankfully at him and then began eating, and it tasted scrumptious. _Yep, I can get used to this. _She thought in a much more relaxed fashion than she would've expected.


End file.
